Without Words
by whereyoursoulresides
Summary: After his death at the hands of the Senshi, Kunzite reawakens in a mortal, human body - his civilian form, Saitou Kunihiro. Armed with clear memories of his past life in the Dark Kingdom, Kunzite seeks to find his partner and rebuild their life together. Unfortunately there is just one complication: Zoisite does not remember him.
1. Prologue

It was days before his final battle with the Sailor Senshi.

Kunzite had been busy for weeks, preparing for this ultimate confrontation. Planting a new entrance in the Senshi's beloved Crown Parlour. Crafting a tunnel to lead them into the darkest part of the Kingdom. Engineering his environment, to benefit his magic and strategies alone - in that space, his own space, they would stand no chance. He would not kill them - because the Princess ultimately controlled the crystal, and Kunzite suspected it would not work without her life energy - but he could send them away and deflect their attack with just a breath. If he was successful, then the Dark Kingdom would finally reign, wholly and completely.

And perhaps, the Princess's crystal could then be of more personal use. After all, Kunzite had not mistaken its potential to raise the dead…

After finishing the remaining touches of his plan, Kunzite teleported away from the inside of Crown Parlour. He rarely fully materialized whenever he was on Earth - he preferred to remain unseen as much as possible. Perhaps it was also be because he never identified himself as an Earth man to begin with...Jadeite, Nephrite, and Zoisite had all felt somewhat comfortable in their mortal flesh, perhaps enjoyed the senses one experiences with the physicality of a body. But Kunzite had never felt any particular need for such experiences...thus he preferred to remain a spectre, ghosting over the city like a shadow.

His shadow flitted across the slumbering buildings, darting from wall to wall, until finally, it rested before his final destination. Starlight Tower.

This time, Kunzite did take the rare opportunity to fully manifest himself, and his boots landed on the grass softly. He arched his head high, catching the glimmer of the balcony, dark and solemn in the moonless night. In its monumental silence and beauty, it marked the sky like a gravestone.

Lowering his head back to the ground, Kunzite focused on the matter at hand. He opened up his palms, and after an evocation of magic, a familiar frame dropped into his hands.

It was the photo of himself and Zoisite, preciously preserved in gold.

Taking a deep breath, Kunzite closed his eyes. Within a heartbeat, the frame had disappeared from his hands, and reappeared deep in the earth before him. The only indication that it had been buried was the pulse of black magic that flickered above the space Kunzite had buried it.

Should he pass, Kunzite had a suspicion that all his magic would be obliterated along with his soul as well. But, in the event that he was wrong...he sincerely hoped the photo would remain. Perhaps one day, in a new life, he could happen upon it again.

With that done, Kunzite readied himself for his last battle. One way or another, he would find his answers shortly.

Within a blink of an eye, he teleported back to the Kingdom.

* * *

When his own blade struck his heart, Kunzite could not believe it.

 _So this is the power of the Ginzuishou_ , he realized. Even in his own space, with his own physics and rules - it could defy them all.

As he stood dying, Kunzite threw his hand skyward to bellow out his last request.

"Zoisite, the plane where your soul resides... _guide me there!_ "

As he began to lose consciousness, the lights turned blinding and blurry, like the last burst of fireworks.

 _And if I cannot be guided_ , Kunzite thought, as he felt his body disintegrating...no longer a shadow, no longer a spectre...just colors and light and air...

 _I will keep searching for you._

The lights extinguished, and the world turned black.


	2. Finding Him

Author's Notes: So just a heads up, this is another Kunzite-Seeks-Redemption fic, but I must warn you - it is suuuuuper slow burn. LIke crazy slow. Kun and Zoi do eventually end up happily together (that's always the endgame to these fics, right?), but it's not without a lot of blood, sweat and tears - because life is never smooth sailing, right? Drama, angst and feels aside, I mostly wanted to write this fic because I really wanted to explore the concept of Kunzite truly and honestly grappling his feelings towards Zoisite. For most of their relationship, Zoisite always seems to be pining and adoring Kunzite, so I wanted to explore the opposite: how would their relationship develop, if the situations were reversed? If Zoisite had no memories, could Kunzite win him over? How would Kunzite make his feelings known, if it had always been Zoisite who guided them through their relationship? And what of all the baggage of their past life - knowing he loved Zoisite before, but failed in protecting him? Updates are sporadic, but I KunZoi is pretty much my lifeblood, so this story will never be abandoned. As usual I love to chat KZ, and especially character development and exploration - so please hit me up with a PM or leave a review if you enjoy the fic. Reviews and any form of engagement will also spark inspiration and more updates because it basically boots my brain into more KZ mode lol! Thank you!

Without Words Chapter 1

In the dead of the night, Kunzite bolted awake.

He was alone in a humble apartment bedroom. The walls were a functional shade of grey, and the curtains were drawn. Outside was the hum and breath of a city slumbering. Whatever universe he was in, it was painfully...

Ordinary.

Immediately his hand flew to his face, and he took his first true breath of air. His lungs expanded and suddenly Kunzite realized where he was.

He was on Earth, he was home.

And his name was Saitou Kunihiro.

It hadn't taken long for Kunzite to re-orientate himself in his new world. It was 1993, Tokyo, January. By his calculations, Saitou Kunihiro had woken up at the exact moment Kunzite had finished being obliterated into nothingness.

It was the strangest experience to "reawaken" in his mortal body. It wasn't a new body, nor was it even a reincarnated body. It was as if Saitou Kunihiro had went to bed one night blissfully unaware, and then woke up knowing a whole other life. The two sets of memories were in perfect harmony - one blended with the other to complete him. Perhaps Kunzite had always been a spectre in the Dark Kingdom then - a dark shard of Kunihiro's soul held in purgatory, returned to him now that Beryl's death had released him.

The memories were thankfully not overwhelming. Kunzite understood it now: he was Saitou Kunihiro, a 26 year old young man. He was employed as a lead officer of a local community station. Dedicated to his job and wanting to make a difference, he often put in extra hours and was highly respected in the area. It was not unusual for Kunihiro to be found working or assisting citizens even outside his shifts.

But one aspect of his human life throbbed like an open wound: Saitou Kunihiro was alone. There were no pictures of friends or family, no photos of a significant other. There was no trace of roses, orchids or flowers; no pink bubble bath in his bathroom and no thick brush of curly, golden-red hair resting on the bedside table.

And in that moment, Kunzite only of only one single purpose for his current existence.

He had to find Zoisite.

* * *

Months passed, with little result. On a cold autumn night just a few weeks before the anniversary of Zoisite's death, Kunzite found himself in charge of a new district and a new precinct, with zero leads on where his partner could be.

He was making some routine rounds in the neighbourhood, getting a sense of the new grounds he was to monitor. Though usually sleepy and unassuming in appearance, it was a rougher, more vulnerable area. It was not uncommon for darker gangs and larger criminal organizations to expand into such places, and Kunzite's presence was more a matter of prevention. Although Kunzite disliked to think of it, he always kept his eye trained in areas such as these, if in case Zoisite happened to be there.

His last stop was the neighbourhood cafe. It on a busy main street, brightly lit and a popular location for students and young working professionals alike. Needing a coffee to help him through the rest of the night, Kunzite got in line.

"One medium coffee, black," he requested, rummaging in his wallet for change.

"One medium coffee," the barista repeated cheerfully, and Kunzite froze at the sound of their voice. It was soft, sweet, and rang in his head as crisply clear as dew on an autumn morning.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his head inched up.

And lo and behold, a familiar face with green eyes and wavy copper hair, smiled back.

It was Zoisite.

Kunzite stood there dumbly for a few seconds, blinking in utter disbelief. He was torn and frozen between two colliding trains of thought: that he had _finally found Zoisite,_ and secondly, why Zoisite wasn't just as flabbergasted.

"Zoisite," Kunzite said without thinking.

The boy blinked a few times and then leaned in closer over the till.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Could you say your name again please?"

Kunzite couldn't believe his ears, unsure if he heard correctly. Did Zoisite not recognize him? At all?

"Kunzite." He remembered where he was, and cleared his throat. "Saitou, _Kun._ " Surely Zoisite would remember his name.

The look on Zoisite's face was quizzical. Nevertheless, he scribbled the name down on the cup and placed it in the queue. "Thank you," he chirped politely. "Please wait at the end of the counter."

It was dismantling to hear Zoisite respond as if he was a complete stranger, with no bubbles in his voice or stars in his eyes. Too shocked to respond, Kunzite piloted down the counter without thinking, and grasped his now-filled coffee-cup. Struck with hope, he turned it to the side to see his name - but was crestfallen to see no hearts, no flowers. _Officer Saitou_ was all it said.

"Sorry to trouble you," the server at the end of the counter said. "Is something the matter?" She must have noticed Kunzite's expression of confusion.

"N...No," Kunzite finally answered, clearing his head. It was all very disorientating.

The server nodded and was about to leave, but then Kunzite stopped her. "Who is the server at the till?"

The girl looked over to her right. "Oh! His name is Kozakura Izou. Did you wish to speak to him about your order?"

Kunzite knew this was neither the time nor the place to ask more about Zoisite; not when he was swarming with customers. "No, it is fine...Thank you."

He took his cup and slowly walked passed the string of customers that were still in line, trying to catch a clear glimpse of the ginger-curly hair. But no matter from what angle he saw the boy at, Kunzite could only see that it was truly Zoisite.

Realizing there wasn't much he could do now, Kunzite decided to continue onto his job. He had work to do, but at least now he knew Zoisite existed.

He had found his partner, in the world where his soul resided.

* * *

It took Kunzite a couple of tries to stake out his next move. Zoisite wasn't in the coffeeshop all the time, and Kunzite's shifts often meant he could only catch a glimpse of the boy in the morning. There was hardly any opportunity for them to bump into each and properly talk, and Kunzite certainly wasn't going to make conversation at the till unless absolutely necessary. It took him a few tries to figure out Zoisite's schedule, and at long last, Kunzite managed to swing by after work on a day he knew Zoisite was working.

Out of his uniform, Kunzite also felt a little more comfortable. In his civilian clothes, he could make the moves he was hoping to do with less scrutiny. It was casual, off-beat. He even had unbuttoned the top two buttons of his white shirt, exposing just a little bit of skin like he used to. Zoisite had always loved the little window of his collarbone.

Entering in just a half hour before Zoisite's shift was to end, Kunzite ran the play in his head. He'd order, make some quiet small talk. He'd ask if Zoisite had plans later that night after work, and if he wouldn't mind going out for coffee sometime. He'd look at Zoisite in that particular way that made his former protege's knees buckle - soft, firm, smoldering, as Zoisite once shyly described. He was certain Zoisite would be unable to resist.

He came up to the counter to make his order, and nodded a bit at Zoisite. The boy seemed to recognize him, a happy smile on his face.

"Saitou-sama," Zoisite greeted cheerfully. "It... _is_ Saitou-sama, right? The police officer."

Kunzite smiled faintly. "Yes."

Zoisite's smile turned into a grin. "Just got off work?" he asked, getting a cup and writing Kunzite's name on it. "How was your day?"

"It was good." Kunzite kept a sense of his peripherals, making sure that there were no other customers behind him or to gauge if any of the customers needed Zoisite. "No coffee today, just some tea, please."

Zoisite nodded and rung the order up. "I don't usually see you after work," he said with bit of a musical note in his voice. Kunzite saw how his green eyes lingered momentarily at his open collar bone. "I almost didn't recognize you."

"Then perhaps I should come by more often after work," Kunzite suggested mildly, watching for Zoisite's cheeks to blush. Instead, Zoisite giggled, slipping out Kunzite's change from the register.

"I'm sure I'll remember you now," he said, counting out the money.

 _Yes_ , Kunzite thought to himself, feeling a surge of victory. _This is a sign!_

Zoisite finished counting. "Here you are." He offered his hand and Kunzite opened his under it to take the change, and as they pulled back, their fingers grazed one another's, and the warmth of the brief contact made Kunzite's heartbeat swell. This was his chance!

"Speaking of after work," Kunzite started, getting a feel of the situation, "what are your plans?"

It was unusual for Kunzite to be this forward, but he was so certain Zoisite would answer as he predicted.

Zoisite's was a bit sheepish. "Just studying, I'm afraid."

According to Kunzite's math, Zoisite would have turned seventeen that past October. "Entrance exams?"

"Yes sir." Although this was clearly the correct answer, Zoisite's cheeks tinted a bit and Kunzite sensed something. Discomfort? Embarrassment?

"But…?"

"Catch-up," the teen finally admitted. "Revision physics. If I can get a passing grade by the next term, I can take the entrance exams."

Zoisite was unusually bright, so this was news to Kunzite.

"Do you take a class?"

Zoisite nodded. "Yes, but…" He bit his lip in thought. "It's...very hard. I suppose I'll have to get a tutor maybe, once I have the money."

Kunzite nodded, slowly getting a better understanding of the situation.

"I wasn't so bad at physics," Kunzite grunted conversationally, sensing a potential opportunity to get to see Zoisite more often.

As predicted, Zoisite's head lifted up with hope. "Really?"

Kunzite nodded. "It's been a while, but, if you need any help, I could take a look at it with you."

The surge of relief and excitement in Zoisite's eyes was tremendous. "Are you sure, Saitou-sama?"

Kunzite nodded again. "We could do it here, after work, or on your days off if you'd like."

It was obvious Zoisite thought this was a dream come true. "Thank you!" he gushed. "But, I haven't any money…"

"Don't worry about the money," Kunzite smiled. "You make good tea."

Zoisite laughed both delightfully and modestly, bringing up a hand to his mouth like he usually did, half-hiding his adorable cheeks. _This was it!_ Kunzite thought. _Final move!_

Taking a deep breath, Kunzite steeled himself for the final part of his plan. There were no other customers in sight behind him, only Zoisite before him and a couple of girl servers behind him, busy with cleaning.

"I was wondering," Kunzite started, "would you, perhaps, like to have some coffee with me somet-"

Before Kunzite could finish his sentence, the door to the cafe opened, and one of the girls gasped at the bell. Zoisite's head flipped over to the entrance and his face lit up.

"Kuroi-san!"

The door shut behind, and Kunzite turned his head around to face the interruption.

A young, handsome man stood in front of the door. He was tall and of athletic build, with long, smooth black hair half-tied in a charmingly messy top-knot. Deep brown eyes were kind but firm, and his distinguished cheekbones, paired with his ever-present natural half-smile, seemed welcoming and secure.

The newcomer was carrying a bouquet of deep red roses, which looked like they had been freshly cut. Kunzite noticed his rough gardener's gloves out a pocket, the slight scuff of dirt on his browned, tanned skin.

"Welcome, Kuroi-sama!" the ladies all chirped happily.

"Good evening," Kuroi responded, coming over to the counter. He had sort of a warm, strong presence about him, and all the girls seemed to blush and titter in unison. His eyes glanced from the ladies to Zoisite, and Kunzite overheard one of the girls snuggle close in excitement.

"Izou-chan," the girl whispered, "it's your friend!"

 _Friend?_ The word rang through Kunzite's mind. There was only one meaning that particular word had in this context, and it was more than just platonic friendship.

Zoisite blushed, but couldn't stop grinning. "Kuroi-san," he exclaimed, "what are you doing here? What a surprise!"

Kuroi's smile was so easy and friendly it made Kunzite angry. "I was in the neighbourhood, and thought I'd drop by. Izou-chan, are you about to finish?"

Kunzite was nearly shocked by how familiarly this man was calling Zoisite. Izou- _chan?_

Zoisite was in a fluster and could hardly contain himself. "Yes, just a moment." He turned back to the register to quickly clean up. "Please excuse me, Saitou-sama."

Kunzite was too momentarily stunned to reply. "...Sure," he answered, unable to think of anything else to say.

Zoisite was clearly very excited to get going. "Excuse me," he told the ladies, rushing to the back. When he came out of the side door, he was in his civilian clothing with a backpack slung over his shoulder. Upon seeing the roses in Kuroi's arm, Zoisite's mouth dropped open.

"Oh, Kuroi-san!"

Kuroi smiled and lifted the bundle towards him. "I was trimming these today and thought of you," he said. "I know how much you love roses."

Kunzite was gripping his ceramic mug so tightly that any moment he thought it would shatter.

Zoisite slowly accepted the bouquet, his face all aglow. "These are so beautiful, thank you."

Kuroi's smile was so easy and happy, it was sickening.

"It's nothing."

Kuroi then lightly placed a hand on Zoisite's shoulder, and turned back over to the ladies to say goodnight. "Apologies for the intrusion."

The ladies all squealed and giggled and nearly imploded into a mass of titters. "Oh, no intrusion at all, Kuroi-sama," they all said. "Please come back more often!"

Kuroi nodded at all the adulations politely, as if he were an older brother indulging his younger sister's friends. "Thank you for all your hard work," he said. "Goodnight. Shall we go, Izou-chan?"

Still basking in the joy of the gift, Zoisite nodded and cuddled up close to Kuroi. At the sight, Kunzite nearly felt his heart break. He was still watching them, dumbstruck, when Zoisite seemed to remember he was there and quickly looked over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he called, referring to his abrupt exit. "See you next time, Saitou-sama!"

Kunzite could only wave silently as the two disappeared from the establishment.

And just like that, the world seemed empty once again.


	3. The Lessons Begin

Author's Note: ! Omg, thank you guys all for the wonderful messages! I'm so glad to hear how this story is resonating with people so far! I'll do my best to get to the meatier parts of their relationship soon without sacrificing the rhythm of the story.

Btw, did anyone have a guess as to who is Izou's boyfriend from the first chapter? I didn't want to write an actual original character for the role, so I gratuitously borrowed from another Kunzite-esque figure from a similar series…

Below are some independent review responses because I'm old fashioned like that:

Karen: OMG thank you for your long reviews! I'm so happy to hear you're really vibing on the same parts of the fic that I am. As for the subtitles, my version say the same as yours. It's a shame that grammatically the subtitles are correct, but they really miss the power of Kunzite's final words. In that scenario, I do feel like the subtitle team could have used a little artistic license to better capture the sentiment, as well as the literal translation.

Guest (1): Thank you! Will do!

Guest (2): LOL I know! I'll do my best to speed things up while retaining a sense of realism in the fic. Unfortunately I'm not the most concise writer (and I love to indulge gratuitously in small slices of the normalcy of domestic life), so I hope you'll enjoy the ride :)

Without further ado, here's Chapter 2!

* * *

It took Kunzite a while to adjust to this new information about his long-lost lover. Perhaps he had been foolish to assume that finding Zoisite and bringing him back to his life would be so easy. Perhaps this was cosmic karma of some sort; after all, if he had failed to protect Zoisite before, why would the universe give Zoisite back so easily?

It wasn't until later following week when Kunzite had another chance to speak to Izou about the situation. It was a weeknight evening, and Kunzite had stopped by the coffee shop after work, hoping it would coincide with Izou's shift. The shop was quiet, filled only with young students who were studying hard in the booths.

Thankfully Izou was indeed working, manning the till diligently. As Kunzite came up, Izou saw who it was, and his smile lit up.

"Ah, Saitou-sama," he greeted cheerfully. "I haven't seen you in a while. How are you?"

Kunzite came to a rest in front of the till. "I'm well, thank you. And yourself?"

Izou was wiping the countertops. "I'm very well, thank you," he answered happily. "What can I get you today?"

"A large black coffee please. And a sandwich."

Izou rang up the order. "No tea today?"

"I'm afraid I'll need to stay up late tonight," Kunzite explained, paying for his dinner. "We'll be training the junior officers tomorrow morning and I need to run through the preparations."

The till trilled happily as Izou took the money.

"Ah, you're such a hard worker, Saitou-sama," Izou commented gratefully. "Thank you for all your hard work in keeping our neighbourhood safe."

Kunzite grunted offhandedly in response. It was his duty, after all. As Izou handed him the coffee cup, he gauged to see if this would be a good time to inquire beyond the usual polite pleasantries.

"How's your studying going?"

Izou pulled the sandwich from out of the display and placed it in the mini oven. "Oh, that. Um, it's going well, thank you." But Kunzite could tell Izou wasn't being entirely honest.

"Have you been able to find a tutor?"

At this, Izou's head shot up as though he had just remembered. "Ah! I forgot- please forgive me, I hadn't meant to run off so abruptly the last time."

Kunzite was conflicted between trying to hone down a reason for them to see each other consistently, or finding more about the _friend_.

"It's no problem," was all Kunzite could finally say.

Izou smiled thankfully just as the oven bell rang. As he took out the hot sandwich and began to arrange the little cutely-cut vegetables on it, he did seem to be considering something.

"Well, if it really isn't a bother," Izou started off hesitantly, "is Saitou-sama's offer to tutor still available?"

He held up the plate, all beautifully decorated, as though it were an offering.

There was no way Kunzite would ever say no.

"Of course," he said with a little smile. "I'd be happy to."

The look of relief and joy on Izou's face was already warming Kunzite's heart.

"Thank you!"

Kunzite took the plate, unable to keep his own happiness from rising to the surface as well.

"You're welcome. When would you like to start?"

* * *

Their first tutoring day arrived quickly on a Thursday evening, and Kunzite could not have been more excited. This would be the first time he would be able to spend time with Zoisite in any personal capacity, and he could not stop imagining how it would go. Perhaps they'd sit next to one another and Zoisite would find his presence familiar. Perhaps they'd reach forward for the book and their hands would graze. Perhaps, having caught Kunzite's scent, Zoisite would pause...and recall long ago how he used to cuddle with it, how he had missed it in the pillows of their bedroom. Just as Kunzite had done with Zoisite's.

When he arrived at the cafe, he found Zoisite waiting for him in the quietest booth in the farthest corner. The boy gave him a wave and Kunzite made his way over. Books and papers were already spread out on the table, and there were two steaming cups of tea and a plate of biscuits.

"Saitou-sama, good evening," Izou greeted him happily, as Kunzite took a seat close to the cup of tea that was clearly meant for him. "How are you? How did the training go?"

It was so sweet of Izou to have remembered, and Kunzite found his confidence inflating marginally. "Fine, thank you," he said sincerely. "And yourself?"

Izou had the most loveliest of smiles. "I'm well, thank you. Please eat, I know this is around supper time…"

How Kunzite wished he could just wrap his arms around the boy now and kiss him on the cheek. But he kept himself in control; having Zoisite this close was already immense progress.

"Why don't we get through the lesson," Kunzite suggested, "and then we can have supper afterwards, my treat."

Izou shook his head. "I can't have Saitou-sama spending any more money!" he exclaimed. "Saitou-sama's time is more than enough. If anything, I should be treating you to supper."

"Maybe you can, when you're a world-renown physicist."

This made Izou laugh. "I don't think I'll ever be _that_ good."

"You never know," Kunzite said with a smile. "Come. Let me show you."

* * *

By the time the lesson was completed and the cookies were gone, Izou was making remarkable progress. As Izou worked through the remainder of his assignment to commit the new information into his memory, Kunzite took the time to just observe him.

 _It has to be Zoisite,_ he thought to himself distantly, as he watched Izou bite his lip and wrap one curly strand of hair around his knuckle. Zoisite used to work exactly the same way, even going as far as chewing on his locks during a particularly difficult plan. Kunzite often had to remind him of his habit.

"It seems like it's coming a lot easier to you now," Kunzite commented as Izou finished the last question. The boy handed over the sheets for Kunzite to assess.

"A bit," Izou agreed, leaning back with a sigh of relief. "This isn't so bad, but a lot of the later chapters are much more difficult for me…"

"You'll get there," Kunzite reassured as he went through each answer thoroughly, making notes where needed. "If you have a solid foundation, the rest will come a lot easier."

As Kunzite continued the marking, Izou sat forward with his chin perched in his hands, elbows on the table. He seemed to be gazing at Kunzite with the same sort of observatory curiosity that Kunzite had been.

"Saitou-sama really is a good teacher," Izou commented. "The junior officers must be really lucky."

Kunzite shrugged. Having been so used to Zoisite being his partner in the line of duty, none of the other officers could really compare.

"What program are you thinking of applying into?" Kunzite asked, changing the subject.

"Mn, I haven't decided yet," Izou answered thoughtfully. "I had considered applying to technical college instead...I might be able to find a job faster that way."

Kunzite glanced up briefly from his marking. "Surely you'd be able to find a higher paying job if you completed a degree. You're more than bright enough."

Izou waved a hand modestly. "Well, money's a bit tight," he admitted. "I haven't the funds to attend a full degree program. If I can graduate faster and get a job, I'll be able to send money back home to my parents sooner."

Parents? That was news to Kunzite. He had been used to living with Zoisite alone that the idea of his partner having relatives was alien.

"Where do they live?"

"In the countryside," Izou answered. "They sent me to study in the city when I was fourteen. I don't want to burden them anymore, so if I can graduate sooner, that would be ideal."

So Izou had been somewhat independent for a while. It wasn't an unusual circumstance.

"Do you live with roommates then, or other family?"

Izou shook his head. This was interesting to Kunzite; he had been expecting Zoisite to say that he was living with his new partner.

He flipped the page and started on the next few questions, clearing his throat.

"What about...that friend of yours?" As much as Kunzite did not want drive the conversation back to that particular _individual_ , it was necessary information. If by any chance Zoisite had accidentally hooked up with the wrong man in his absence...

Instantly Izou's eyes lit up excitedly. "Oh, Kuroi-san? No...we're good friends, but he already has a roommate." Yet, there was a slight hint of disappointment in Izou's voice.

"How did you two meet?" Kuroi was easily closer to Kunzite's age than to Izou, so it seemed a little suspicious.

Abruptly, Izou seemed to shift uncomfortably. "We...run in the same circles," he answered vaguely, but Kunzite could instantly pick up something was off.

"Oh?" Kunzite wanted to know more. "Hobbies, you mean? Or, at the gym?" It wasn't like Kunzite to prompt this much in conversation, but he knew his usual interrogation tactics were not going to work in this kind of situation.

"He works at the community centre I sometimes go to," Izou answered. "He does landscaping and garden maintenance there."

Kunzite was nearly finished marking.

"If you don't mind me asking," Kunzite decided to venture forth, "how close are you two exactly?"

A redness flushed to Izou's face at the question. Orientations weren't exactly brought up quite so straightforwardly and perhaps Izou had yet to fully awaken his own sexuality. This was somewhat new to Kunzite, as Zoisite has always been very clear about his preferences and certainly was never shy about them.

"It's okay," Kunzite reassured, assuming that perhaps Izou was worried he might disapprove. "I'm not going to judge. Is he you're…" Kunzite fumbled a bit, not because he was uncomfortable with the topic, but because he had actually never used this word. He had always tended to avoid romantic labels of any sort as a principle. "Are you two...official?"

Although Kunzite had thought himself as quite graceless with the question, Izou seemed quite amazed. Slowly his blush receded and his shoulders relaxed.

"Well, we're not _quite_ official," Izou began hesitantly, watching Kunzite carefully to gauge that they were still talking about the same thing. "We've only just started spending more time together, but I think we both think it's going to go somewhere serious…"

Kunzite made sure to keep his own personal feelings tightly repressed as he scanned for the pertinent information he needed.

"How do you know?"

Seeing that he and Kunzite were indeed talking about the same thing, Izou's eyes lit up. It must've been a great relief to be able to talk to someone about his orientation, and with another man no less! Izou could hardly contain his excitement.

"It's just the little things, you know?" Izou couldn't help but start gushing. "I mean, I've had crushes before and the occasional date but, with Kuroi-san, it's just so ... _real_. We were friends first, you see, and over time we just got closer and closer."

Despite how understandably difficult this was for Kunzite to hear, he continued to steer himself for the next depth of questions.

"What is he like?"

Izou could hardly stop beaming. "He's so good, Saitou-sama. Like, _so_ good. He's always warm and friendly to everyone we meet, and he loves helping out others. Everyone at the centre treats him a little like a big brother. He's just got that - ...presence, you know? Like he knows how to take care of people, and he's always looking out for me."

The irony was not entirely lost on Kunzite, who was staring at the papers with the pen gripped so tightly he thought it would break.

"He's also so brave. Like, he's not ever afraid of telling someone what he thinks. He's really confident that way."

Kunzite recalled how Kuroi had swept in that first evening with the massive bouquet of roses. It didn't seem like Kuroi was the sort of man that was subtle about anything.

"That's really the best thing so far," Izou said dreamily. "He's my first really serious relationship, and I'm always a little nervous that I don't know what I'm doing when I'm with him, but - he makes it so easy, so natural. He's never afraid to show me how much he cares for me...he'll touch my hand as we walk down the street, or put his arm around mine, and buys me little gifts…" A warmth of color rose on Izou's cheeks and he sighed contently.

As Izou spoke, Kunzite counted the times in which he had done the same things in their past. Unfortunately it was hard to remember - most of their intimacy had been in private, as Kunzite rarely ever left the darkness of the Kingdom unless absolutely necessary. And of course they always had to be professional when on the job...with the occasional exception...

But if Kunzite was honest with himself, he and Zoisite had never officially labelled their relationship either, even in private. And certainly never beyond student or mentor in public. No matter their fondness of one another, they were servants to the Kingdom first.

"Are you sure it's not just a crush?" he asked then, but really more for himself than Izou's sake.

Izou glanced at Kunzite with a bit of a hurt expression. "Of course it's not," he insisted. "He returns it, Saitou-sama."

And there was the kicker. Despite his lack of self-awareness in certain aspects, Kunzite knew himself well enough that reciprocating affection wasn't exactly his forte. Whenever Zoisite's demonstrativeness became too much, Kunzite often had to abruptly duck out - not because he thought the emotional display silly, but because he found it quite overwhelming. Dark Kingdom aside, romanticism and feelings weren't ever topics Kunzite had confidence in handling, and he had never been sure what to do with any act that required more than a cuddle or a smooth-over. It was easier to sort of, pat Zoisite on the head and return back to work.

Kunzite glanced back down at the assignment in front of him, and the numbers and formulas began to look like a foreign language to him. How was he supposed to awaken Zoisite like this? The boy had fallen in love with the wrong man…

"What about you, Saitou-sama?" Izou asked, interrupting Kunzite's thoughts. "Does Saitou-sama also...prefer…?" he trailed off, implying the word _men._

Kunzite was pulled back into reality. "It, um," he cleared his throat authoritatively, "it doesn't really matter, to me. It's all the same, beneath the skin."

Izou's expression changed to that one of wonderment. "What do you mean?"

Finding it difficult to look at Izou without feeling uncomfortable, Kunzite settled to staring at the sheet as if he was still marking. "If it's true love," he started, approaching the topic as if it were a philosophical topic and not a personal one, "surely it is a person's essence, their core, that one finds primarily attractive? The rest of it, the physical, the matter - it's secondary. It fades with time, changes through age, metamorphosizes."

"I suppose I would still like Kuroi even if we were older," Izou admitted slowly, "but I don't think I could like him the same way if he wasn't a man…" Suddenly Izou made a sour face at the thought, and Kunzite nearly laughed out loud.

"Perhaps I misspoke. Complimentary," Kunzite clarified. "The physicality, the body, it supports and complements the essence, adds to its beauty, but never overshadows it. And when the support recedes, the essence is what lives on after the body decays - it remains, against the passages of time, the ravages of uncertainty."

"The soul, you mean?" Izou piped up. "If it had a physical manifestation, I imagine the soul would be the most beautiful thing I could think of."

At that very moment, Kunzite recalled the last time he had seen such a thing. A mass of colored lights, psions fading and flashing and dissipating.

 _Zoisite - the plane where your soul resides - guide me there!_

Suddenly Kunzite couldn't continue down this conversation anymore. The memory of his last words rang loud in the cavern of his mind, echoing throughout the coffeeshop. No heads were turned and no one suspected a thing, but the sound of his voice seemed to penetrate so deeply that the walls themselves seemed to tremble with its resonance.

Abruptly, Kunzite picked up his mug, and clunked it hard onto the table. The spell was shattered.

The sound startled Izou out of the intensity of the conversation as well. "My apologies, I think I got a little distracted there," he said with a bit of a laugh, not realizing what had just happened. His eyes grew warm and vaguely amazed. "I didn't know Saitou-sama was so poetic."

Kunzite merely grunted noncommittally and returned to marking Izou's assignment. The memory of his last words had unnerved him and he wasn't sure how to continue. He felt Izou slide his elbows forward on the table, and saw that the boy was gazing up at him with his chin in his hands.

"I must be honest, it's a bit of a relief, Saitou-sama," Izou admitted with a sigh. "Not many people are so aware about this sort of thing, much less officers."

"Of course we need to know," Kunzite replied seriously. "We wouldn't be able to do a good job if we didn't know who we were protecting, would we?"

"Ahh," Izou sang in agreement. "Saitou-sama has probably encountered all sorts of things while on duty? Different neighbourhoods, special bars, clubs?"

"There isn't much I haven't seen," Kunzite affirmed, as he neared the end of his marking.

Izou unfolded his arms and stretched them. "Has Saitou-sama ever been in relationship?" he asked innocently. "With a boy?"

The question took Kunzite off guard and he momentarily stiffened. The memories of his time with Zoisite flashed through his mind like a spinning reel - Zoisite laughing, lounging, biting his thumbnail, cuddling into him, waking up next to him, gazing at him with such softness in the early recess of the morning -

Kunzite merely sat up and returned the pages back to Izou.

"You have grasped the concept soundly, but I've noticed you keep making this error consistently-..."

The abruptness surprised Izou, and vaguely, Kunzite could tell that the boy knew he had tred on some very private ground. For the remainder of the lesson, Izou kept his questions polite and professional.

It vaguely hurt to turn Izou away so unexpectedly, but it didn't hurt quite as much as remembering Zoisite. Once Kunzite had finished explaining the error and Izou had amended some of his solutions, the magic of the night seemed to have dissipated. Now there was only the darkness of the windows, the coolness of the air conditioner.

"Same time next week?" Kunzite asked.

Izou nodded, gathering his things. Catching the slightly uncertain look on Izou's face, Kunzite quelled his own upset and tried to focus on making the boy feel better.

"Shall I walk you home?" Perhaps he could find a better way of apologizing as they strolled.

By the way Izou's face lit up, Kunzite knew he was going to be alright.

"That'd be lovely, thank you."

* * *

The stroll hadn't been very long, but it had been very quiet. It seemed as though neither men knew what to say at this point, or were both deep in thought. Kunzite decided to focus on the experience rather than thinking about the past - it was soothing, to be walking in the still of the night with his old partner again.

When they reached the bus stop, they didn't have to wait long for one to arrive. As one rounded the corner, Izou broke the silence.

"I…'m sorry, Saitou-sama," he said genuinely. "I hadn't meant to be so forward…"

Kunzite shook his head. "Not at all," he murmured. "Don't mention it."

The boy slowly smiled again, reassured that they were okay.

"Thank you again, for teaching me today. It's been really helpful."

Kunzite's shoulders relaxed marginally and he allowed himself a little smile. "No problem."

The wheels rolled up, and bus' doors opened, releasing a trickle of passengers out from the exit.

As Izou was about to get onto the bus, he paused, and quickly turned back around. There was still something else he was itching to say.

"You know...I just want to say," Izou started, "that...when Saitou-sama does find someone, I know they'll be the luckiest person in the world. Boy or girl."

Strangely enough, those words actually did seem to help. Unable to help himself, Kunzite lifted into a sincere smile as well.

"I'm glad you think that."


	4. From the Outside In

In the time following their first lesson, Kunzite was beginning to feel more confident with the situation. Their unexpectedly deep and personal conversation seemed to have caused a brighter and more open shift in their dynamic. For whenever Kunzite would stop by the shop thereafter for coffee or tea, Izou always seemed more excited than usual to see him.

Their second lesson came and went smoothly. Although they didn't share any deep conversations during this time, its omittance was comfortable. It was as though there was an understandable sense of kismet between them. A sense of solidarity. And although their schedules never allowed for a romantic dinner afterwards, but Kunzite liked to think he had caught a few sneak peeks and flushed little smiles a couple of times.

"Thank you, Saitou-sama," Izou said gratefully as they finished up a third lesson. "The notes really do help."

Kunzite smiled. "I'm glad. See you next week then?"

"Yes. Oh- wait," Izou just seemed to remember something. "I'm sorry, I won't be able to do next Thursday. Could we reschedule?"

Kunzite scanned his schedule in his mind. "How about next Friday?"

Izou shook his head. "I'm sorry, I've got a-..." His cheeks faintly blushed, and his smile turned both sheepish and excited. Kunzite realized it was a date, and he tried not to let his upset show.

"I see. What if we were to do it earlier in the week?"

Izou thought about it. "That could work," he agreed. "Maybe after my shift on Tuesday?"

"This coming Tuesday then. What are you doing Thursday?"

Izou continued packing up his bag. "Oh, just an appointment," he said offhandedly.

Not a date? Kunzite's brows furrowed a little bit.

"A doctor's appointment?"

Although Izou seemed to be fine, Kunzite caught the faintest flinch as he swung his backpack over his shoulder. "Something like that. No need to worry."

Of course Kunzite was going to worry. Izou was acting a little differently and Kunzite's senses were rose in alert.

"You're not ill, are you?"

"No," Izou quickly said. "Of course not."

It was clear Izou was hiding something, and Kunzite's gut was telling him it was very serious. However, he knew now was not the time to push, and gathered up his things as well.

"My apologies. I'll see you Tuesday evening."

* * *

But Kunzite's curiosity and concern was too great. The following evening, Kunzite sat down in front of his computer and began to do a little investigation of his own. Although his personal computer was not particularly sophisticated, he still had some access to the same databases that were used at the precinct. it didn't take long for him to find Izou's basic citizen file.

To facilitate a closer relationship between the citizens and their community officers, every citizen was encouraged to submit any information about themselves that could assist officers more efficiently during an emergency. Most reports, therefore, held basic census information, such as number of family members in a household, ages, and emergency contact detail. Some reports were more detailed, including a schedule of activity, medication, or allergies.

Kozakura Izou's basic citizen was fairly sparse, but the fact it existed meant that either Izou himself, or his parents, volunteered the information. Perhaps there might have been a reason for it.

Kozakura Izou

Age 18

D.O.B October 30, 1975

Beneath his date of birth, the file listed Izou's address, school information and his parents' contact details, and the contact details for his family doctor. There were no flags, extra notes, or special considerations listed. As far as Kunzite could tell, Kozakura Izou was a regular, ordinary student.

Since the file ended there, Kunzite decided to do try some secondary research. He began to look for Izou's name in any other neighbouring databases. Only one record popped up, and it was from one of the hospitals near Izou's school. Kunzite clicked open the file. There were only two notes in the file: that Izou had been admitted while unconscious, and that later he had been referred to _Shinsenharu Centre_.

But there was one additional little detail that struck Kunzite deep to the bone.

The day Kozakura Izou was admitted to the hospital was the same day Zoisite had passed.

* * *

In light of this rather eery news, Kunzite had decided to switch activities to keep himself occupied. With no other cases from work or missions like in the Dark Kingdom, Kunzite could only busy himself with one other type of task: physical activity.

Usually Kunzite preferred going to the gym in the early morning to avoid the crowds. Thankfully it was too busy for a Friday night. There were a couple of men running on the treadmills and one warming up on the mats in front of the mirror.

He was in the middle of doing weights at when he caught sight of a familiar, dark ponytail swinging in the mirror's reflection. Without missing a beat in his reps, Kunzite couldn't believe the universe's sense of humor.

"Hey," Kuroi greeted, a stunning demigod even in glistening sweat. He was resting against the wall, a long rod laying across his shoulders. "I know you from somewhere, right? Officer Saitou, from the coffee shop."

Kunzite grunted and released the weights back to resting position.

"And you?" Kunzite replied. "You're Kozakura-san's...friend?" He hoped the word hadn't come out as acidic as the distaste that was welling up from deep inside his gut.

"Correct," Kuroi smiled in confirmation. It was a handsome, casual sort of smile that shone perfect teeth on display, winged with even dimples on either side. A model's sort of smile.

Kuroi shifted to the side and leaned against the pole, right behind Kunzite. The mirror reflected a full view of his tall, svelte glory, even in the loose, red tank top and baggy black sweatpants. "Izou-chan's been saying that you've been helping him out with his revisions. Funny, I didn't think officers specialized in physics, or offered tutoring services when they're off beat."

Kunzite did not miss the man's obvious (if completely unsubtle) attempt to probe about his intentions. He should have expected that Zoisite would fall in love with a man who wasn't completely unintelligent... or who had a bit of an protective streak.

"A good officer is a generalist," Kunzite replied curtly as he began a new set. "He assists where he is needed, in any capacity, for the community."

Kuroi smirked faintly. "How fortunate we are to have you in our services."

Kunzite finished counting his reps and relaxed his arms. Kuroi was still hovering around, and it was beginning to irritate Kunzite. "Are _you_ in need of anything?" he asked pointedly, if not almost sarcastically.

Kuroi pushed himself off the wall, rolling the rod casually around as Kunzite placed his weights back onto the bench. "No, not at all," he said, reaching towards the stand where the rest of the heavy wood and metal poles were kept. "Unless, you'd like to join me? I could use a spotter…"

Kuroi grabbed a second pole and swirled it around effortlessly, before setting it before him and in front of Kunzite. Although it seemed like an offer, Kunzite read it as a challenge.

"Or a sparring partner?"

There was a certain way that Kuroi spoke that made Kunzite think the man was baiting him. "Kendo?"

"That and any form of sword-fighting. I compete casually."

Of course he did.

Kunzite glanced at the pole and back at Kuroi. Wordlessly, he accepted the pole, already imagining the multiple ways this could go down. He could only block just to get a sense of the man's skills. He could spar and potentially drive off his opponent with displays of his own prowess.

Or he could just really beat the shit out of Kuroi. It was definitely possible, and the most efficient and simplistic answer to most of his problems.

Kunzite threw the pole back to Kuroi.

"I don't do combat as a sport."

Kuroi raised an eyebrow as he caught the pole without issue. "That's too bad," he said, as Kunzite turned back around. "I would have liked to see what you were made of."

One certainly could marvel at how appallingly unsubtle the man could be, but the slight didn't stop Kunzite from ignoring the comment and returning to his own workout. Although Kunzite was not the sort of person who let his feelings influence his opinions of people, he was already certain of his dislike of Kuroi. Even if Zoisite hadn't been in the picture, Kunzite would think poorly of the man's cockish manner and bullheaded tact.

But in the end, it didn't matter. The man was irrelevant: Zoisite had been his before, and was sure to fall in love with him again. Glancing over his shoulder and seeing Kuroi engrossed in his katas, Kunzite moved on over to the other side of the gym.

* * *

Later that weekend, Kunzite found himself standing in the middle of a open, clean foyer. The walls around him were mostly window, with little seating areas beneath them. Fresh green plants framed each corner. Positive quotes in elegant frames and peaceful imagery lined the hallways peered off on either side of the main desk.

He was in Shinsenharu Centre, and it certainly wasn't the community centre he thought Izou had referred to. The establishment sat on a wide expanse of gardens and greenery, while the house itself appeared more like an immense old-fashioned mansion, surrounded by a wall of thick rose bushes. It was both beautiful and secretive, homely but progressive, a little resort away from the busy city. And the people who milled around, both indoors and outdoors, wore two separate sets of uniforms.

It was a clinic, Kunzite recognized. And since Kunzite could hardly find any information on it, that meant it was expensive _and_ extremely private. It was either for very exclusive clientele, or a very specific illness.

The receptionist finished her call on the phone, and stood up to greet Kunzite.

"Welcome to Shinsenharu Centre. How may I assist you today?"

"I'm looking for a clinic for my brother," Kunzite answered. "I was wondering if I could tour the premises to see if Shinsenharu would be a good match for his needs."

"Has your brother's physician contacted us about the tour?"

"No, I'm afraid the trauma is quite recent. We are still uncertain what our next step should be. Are we only able to tour once our doctor has contacted your office?"

The receptionist smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid that is usually the case. It's to protect our patient's confidentiality, you see."

So there nature of their practice, or their patients' treatments, that was to be kept hush. It was very likely then that the clinic practiced medicine that was considered controversial or socially delicate. Alternative medicine, perhaps, or anything in regards to mental health.

"I understand," Kunzite agreed. "Do you have any brochures or information I may pass back to my brother, to help him with his decision?"

"Yes, absolutely. One moment please." The receptionist ducked down and pulled out a folder featuring the mansion on the front page. "After the introductory assessment, we should be able to have a better sense of your brother's treatment plan, but this folder shows all of the available streams and programs we have available."

Kunzite took the folder and quickly flipped through. It looked mostly centred on holistic health, promoting a recovery plan based on a conjunction of assisted living, counselling check-ins, group therapy.

"In addition to personal and group counseling, we have an onsite work program to that allows patients at Shinsenharu to continue developing their skills and education during their stay. Many of our patients have moved onto occupations and universities with minimal readjustments. It is been our most successful program to date."

"I imagine it does wonders for their self-efficacy and confidence."

The receptionist nodded deeply, glad to see that Kunzite appreciated their unique, multi-faceted program. "Yes, exactly."

Kunzite finished flipping through the folder and tucked it under his arm. "Thank you for your assistance. It is greatly appreciated." He turned, about to leave, but paused when he caught sight of the wall of roses directly across the lawn in the window. They were deep red and the bushes appeared freshly manicured.

"Your garden," Kunzite mentioned. "Who does the maintenance? They do excellent work."

The receptionist perked up again. "Oh! He's one of our former patients, actually. In fact, I believe he works as a contractor now."

"Do you have his business card? I'd be interested in employing him."

"Yes, one moment." The receptionist pulled open a drawer and placed the card on the desk for Kunzite to take.

"His name is Morishita Kuroi. He's very good."

* * *

Back in his car, Kunzite began flipping through the folder more carefully. While the pamphlet was not explicit about the kind of illness they treated, Kunzite had a few guesses. He would have to do further investigation by other means. Hopefully on Tuesday, Izou would feel more comfortable in divulging what was going on with him.

* * *

The lesson on Tuesday started off as ordinarily as the others. This time, however, Kunzite kept his eye out on Zoisite for any other indications - pallor, habits, wounds. But the boy looked healthy, happy and alert, so in the middle of the lesson, Kunzite decided a more straight-forward approach.

"May I ask you something?" Kunzite finally said.

Izou looked up from his work. "Hm?"

Kunzite gestured to the paper in front of them. "I see you working through these concepts, and while some of them can be challenging, you are quick to catch on. Quicker than most."

Izou smiled brightly at the compliment.

"So why is this a revision for you?" Kunzite asked quietly.

Izou's smile faded. Quickly he looked back down at his work.

"I just didn't get it the first time around, that's all," he mumbled.

"Based on some of the work you've brought in, the concepts you find most difficult are usually taught at year-end," Kunzite continued. "It almost seems like the reason you struggle with these chapters is because you weren't taught them, at all. As if your education just...stopped short."

The boy was biting his lip now, and Kunzite watched carefully as to not overstep his bounds. But he knew he was onto something.

"What happened last year?" he asked softly.

Izou wouldn't look up at him. He just stared at the formulas, pencil drifting back and forth slightly anxiously.

"Izou," Kunzite said again, gently. "It's okay. I'm not going to judge."

The way Kunzite had said his name must've sounded comforting, for Izou raised his head and uncertainty glanced at him a little. Then Izou seemed to remember the last time Kunzite had promised he wouldn't judge, and relaxed a bit.

"Promise you won't think poorly of me?"

Kunzite nodded. "Of course."

Izou nodded a few more times, as though steering himself for his next words. He put the pencil down and leaned back in the booth. Automatically the fingers came up and began twisting a lock of hair by his cheek.

"I was in cram school last year," he explained, "getting ready for entrance exams. We were doing a mock test and…" Izou shrugged embarrassedly. "One moment I'm trying to figure out vector equations, the next, my head is splitting and I'm having these crazy visual flashes. I barely remember when I hit on the floor."

Kunzite's brows furrowed. "Visual flashes? You mean, hallucinations?"

Izou's cheeks turned pink. "Not, really...I don't know. Just, like, flashes. Like there's suddenly too much information being jammed into your head, and it's coming into you in slides every split second. I blacked out."

Kunzite tried to backtrack when this must've happened. If the cram session had been the same night Zoisite had died…

"Anyways," Izou continued. "It's stupid. I woke up in the hospital and they told me I must've had a breakdown from all the pressure, or some kind of epileptic fit. My parents did their best to speed up my recovery and I managed to retain enough memory to complete my other classes...except for physics."

Kunzite listened and replayed carefully Izou's words in his mind.

"'Enough memory'?" he repeated. "Do you mean that you suffered some memory loss after the incident?"

"No," Izou suddenly said quickly. "No, I was fine, I just meant that..." His eyes trailed back to the paperwork on the table. "After something like that, it makes sense your marbles would be a little messy, right? I just meant I got everything together in time to finish my other classes, except physics."

Kunzite instantly knew that Izou was fibbing about something, but it was clear the topic was too sensitive for Kunzite to press too hard. So he pulled back instead to give Izou room to relax.

"I'm sorry you experienced that," he said sincerely.

Izou shrugged, still a bit embarrassed.

"I'm serious," Kunzite said again. "It's not uncommon, what's happened to you."

When Izou began peeking at Kunzite from the corner of eye, he nodded to show Izou he truly meant what he was saying.

"What you went through can happen to anyone, under intense stress or pressure," Kunzite continued. "Whether you're a student, an employee, or…" Kunzite paused a bit.

Izou tilted his head, and Kunzite took a bit of a deep breath.

"Even if you're a police officer."

Green eyes widened in wonderment, and Izou slowly unfurled from the little poistion his shoulders had been in.

"Saitou-sama," Izou breathed, scooching a bit closer to him. "Did it happen to you too?"

Kunzite shook his head. "No. But, I have seen it happen to other members of the force. Once when we arrived on a scene as backup, and once when I was taking my own exams."

Izou nodded, a little amazed that Kunzite was sharing this with him. Then he glanced back down at his knees.

"But none of them were in high school," Izou said with weak laugh. "I mean, the kind of pressure I was under wasn't very heavy."

Kunzite smiled softly, remembering how incredibly tenacious Zoisite had proven to be. No one else had ever thought Zoisite would be a capable officer, and yet, he had shown them all to be wrong. He wondered how Izou would come to realize that of himself.

"It's no one's right to judge what is true difficulty but their own," he said gently. "And more importantly, what marks one's strength is not how they fell, but how they stand again."

These words seemed to really help Izou, and the boy lifted himself again in hope. His face was slowly softening into a look of both incredulity and gratitude.

"Saitou-sama," Izou breathed. He nodded slowly. "Thank you."

Kunzite couldn't help but smile. "No problem."

He raised his arm and was just about to place it across Zoisite's shoulders, when suddenly it occurred to him that this was _a very bold move indeed_ , and he halted his arm immediately. For a moment, it hovered there awkwardly, uncertain as to what to do...until Kunzite quickly switched tactics and settled for patting Izou awkwardly on the shoulder.

"Um, you know," Kunzite cleared his throat, quickly retrieving his hand back to scratch the back of his head. "If ever you have any questions or want someone to talk to, just...I might be able to help. We may have resources that might be able to help."

Izou was watching him with a curious expression as he tilted his head a fraction. "Resources?"

"Books, pamphlets, access to professionals-..."

Izou nodded. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "But I'll be alright."

Kunzite couldn't help but feel a little concerned. "Have you had another fits since then?"

Izou shook his head. "No." He slid back to where he had been sitting, and took the papers up in his hand again. "But thank you."

Kunzite got the impression that Izou had finished with the conversation, but he wasn't sure why. No matter...he'd find out later that week.

* * *

When Thursday rolled around, Kunzite was parked around the corner where the coffee-shop was. There he was waiting for Izou to finish his shift, and see where he was going. He had a hunch, but he'd follow Izou to be sure.

While sitting in the car, it vaguely occurred to him that what he was doing could be considered as _stalking_. In fact, it was what a lot of jealous lovers did in the movies, or so he heard. But Kunzite shook all that nonsense aside - he was operating out of curiosity and concern, _not_ jealousy - and really, it was no different than watching Zoisite carry out his missions, or how both of them used to track the seven legendary monsters. It was reconnaissance, nothing more.

Izou did eventually appear, and Kunzite turned the key in his engine.

Two bus rides later, Kunzite found himself parked across Shinsenharu Centre.

While he waited for Izou to come back out, Kunzite began to browse through the various literature he was able to get his hands on. Medical texts regarding fainting, fits, hallucinations, headaches, trauma and memory loss. Whatever it was that Izou was recovering from, Kunzite was going to prepare himself to help - whether or not Izou was going to let him.

He had just finished reading a paragraph about the different types of amnesia when he caught sight of Izou's familiar, honey-blond locks appearing out of a side door. The boy was talking with a woman in a suit - possibly a therapist - before she let him remain outside in the garden. Now alone, Izou took a deep, satisfied breath, and began to walk the long, winding paths toward the rosebush walls.

At the furthest end, Izou came to a rest. There, another man rose from the ground where he had been crouching - it was Kuroi, wearing his landscaper's gear, shiny black hair charmingly messily tied back. Kunzite watched emotionlessly at first: Kuroi wiping his brow as he leaned against his spade. Izou tilting his head and smiling in that way he used to smile at Kunzite. There were smiles and laughs, genuine and uninhibited. They seemed to be talking quite familiarly, as if over a subject they both knew well.

And then, just as things grew quiet, Kuroi's hand reached out and gently grazed Izou's. The boy reciprocated, unfolding his hands and wrapping it shyly around Kuroi's. There were a few innocent checks over the shoulder. Then, seeing as they were alone, Kuroi slowly drew Izou close. Together they remained like this for a while, quietly and sharing in each other's presence. Their talking tumbled into whispers, whispers into breathless air, then -

Abruptly, Kunzite pulled on the gearshift, and reversed his car out.

As he silently glided away, the reflection of Izou and Kuroi sharing a kiss swam in his rearview mirror.


	5. Even if There Was a Chance

For all of the next week, Kunzite found himself dredging through a terrible fog of bewilderment. Try as he might to concentrate, the back of his mind would continually ruminate. Though he could rationalize that Izou's health was a private matter, Kunzite couldn't shake the feeling that it was _he_ who used to be Zoisite's confidante. If Zoisite would no longer seek him for advice or assistance, what else left was there for Kunzite to offer?

Out of all the most recent events as of late, this realization had been the most unsettling.

Kunzite hadn't thought of any better ideas by the time Izou arrived for another lesson. Though he tried to keep upbeat, it was hard not to see Zoisite slipping away every time he saw Izou's face.

The boy seemed to pick up on Kunzite's mood and was concerned by the end of the lesson.

"Saitou-sama?" he asked.

"Hm."

"Is...everything alright?" Izou seemed genuinely worried. "It's just, you've been awfully quiet today. Quieter than usual, I mean."

Kunzite forced a little smile.

"I'm fine, thank you. Just...haven't slept well recently."

"Oh."

There was a hesitant pause from Izou, as Kunzite turned to face the textbook in front of him again. Finally Izou seemed to summon his courage.

"Did something happen?" he asked quietly. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to…"

The total, utter irony. Kunzite had to give it to the universe, it loved playing him. He sighed and sat back a little in the booth.

"It's nothing," he answered just as quietly. "Just...thinking about someone, that's all."

Izou's eyes grew wide and immediately he slid himself closer to Kunzite's side. "Someone special, you mean?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

Kunzite debated how much he should tell Izou, but finally decided it couldn't harm anything. What was the point in hiding all of this from the boy anyway?

So he just nodded.

Izou gasped silently and his concern tripled. "Saitou-sama, is everything okay? What happened to them?"

Kunzite cleared his throat a bit and tried to shake off the feeling of discomfort. He wasn't used to talking about things like this, but felt that Izou would only worry more if he didn't explain.

"It was a partner on the force. They...passed, a while ago."

Izou's hand rose to his mouth. "Saitou-sama, I'm so sorry…"

Kunzite shook his head. "It's not a recent event. I suppose I was just, remembering them momentarily, that's all."

"Is today the anniversary of their passing?"

"Not exactly today. But, around this time."

Kunzite didn't need to face Izou to know that the boy's green eyes were probably wide and trembling right now. Not in a tearful way, but in that they were moist and vivid with the utmost feeling.

"Were you two...close?" Izou asked in hardly above a whisper.

Kunzite's eyes rose to meet Izou's, and in that moment, he found himself lost in the depths of Zoisite's lake-green eyes.

"I was fond of them," he said distantly.

Without thought, Izou reached out and rested his hand upon Kunzite's arm. For the briefest of seconds, the action seemed so fluid and natural that neither men had noticed. It wasn't until the peripherals of his surroundings began to creep into his view - the light walls, stainless steel, leather booth - that vaguely recognized the anachronism of the situation. Confused, he blinked, and the spell was broken.

"Uhm…"

"Oh!" Izou quickly drew his hand back, and his fingers grazed his bright cheeks faintly. "My apologies, Saitou-sama, I didn't mean to be so forward…"

Kunzite shook his head, his arm feeling strangely cool and sensitive now that it was lacking Zoisite's touch.

"It's alright," he said softly, hoping Izou would continue the touch. "I don't mind."

The boy glanced up shyly and slowly reached his hand back out once more. This time, however, his fingers wrapped around Kunzite's hand instead, firmly but gently.

"Saitou-sama has been so good to me," Izou started, with the clearest eyes Kunzite had ever seen. There was such an innocence to Izou that he could not quite remember Zoisite having, an earnestness that overpowered anything else around him. "And we are good friends now. If there is any way I can help, please let me know."

Absently, Kunzite's thumb slowly grazed the hill of Izou's knuckle. _Just be with me,_ he thought. More than anything, just having Zoisite by his side had made all the difference.

"Thank you. I will."

A delicate, precious pause that hung between them, bridged by the familiarity of such a simple touch: the warmth of each other's hands, the graze of Kunzite's thumb, the tightness of Izou's fingers. If they were to release, the magic would break, and the bridge would disintegrate once more. But as much as he hated it, Kunzite knew he had to be the one to pull out first, lest the magic transformed to awkwardness.

He untangled his fingers from Izou to rest emptily on his coffee cup.

"My apologies, we should be focusing on your studies. Show me your work again for this last question."

But Izou didn't leap to start writing. Instead his eyes were still transfixed on Kunzite, wondering.

"Saitou-sama," Izou announced suddenly, "do you like live music?"

The question caught Kunzite a little off-guard. "I suppose…"

The glitter in those green eyes brightened. "Kuroi-chan's roommate, Shirai-san, is playing tonight at the Jazz Heart. You should join us."

Kunzite had to muster all his energy to keep himself from making a face of distaste.

"It's alright, really, I'd prefer a night to myself…"

Izou's eyes intensified and this time Kunzite could see a little more of Zoisite's fire break through. "Saitou-sama, please, I insist," he nearly begged. "You mustn't be alone tonight. I wouldn't be able to live myself if I let you."

The boy certainly still had Zoisite's sense of dramatism. "Izou, you needn't worry," he tried to dissuade gently. "I'm fine…"

But Izou would have none of it, and suddenly his hand was on Kunzite's upper arm, gripping the sleeve with urgency.

"Saitou-sama is important to me," Izou insisted again. "Please. Let me help."

At Izou's words, Kunzite's heart skipped a beat. _Important._ How many times had Zoisite said that in a past life? Already Kunzite could feel his resolve waning. How could he say no?

His other hand closed over Izou's.

"If you insist."

* * *

Later that evening, Kunzite arrived at the jazz bar, a little later than he had intended. It was a quiet, modest sort of establishment, awash in cozy shades of liquor and warm stage lights. One wall was lined with albums and records, their brown spines worn white in places where they had been handled lovingly. A stage stood directly across the entrance, upon which a white-haired pianist was playing. Off to its side was the mahogany bar, from which a mosaic wall of glasses and various bottles stood glinting behind the bartender. Leather barstools peeled and broke in manners similar to the albums, but none of it retracted from the club's charm.

There was a bit of space in the middle for dancing, crowded already by patrons, but Kunzite steered around it. There were various chairs and tables for small gatherings of no more than four, but they were sparse and already filled. He got himself a seat in front of the bar, but he preferred to lean against the counter so he could better see where Izou might be.

It took a little craning, but eventually he spotted the distinct copper locks among the swaying couples. The room glowed faintly as he watched two for any clues as to how serious they truly were. He had known Zoisite for so long, he knew all the boy's tells. From the crinkle of his eyes to which side of his lip he bit, Kunzite could read him like an open book.

But as the music progressed, the notes of Izou's tells started to blur. There was laughter and giggling, bashful smiles and faint looks of awe. It occured to Kunzite then that he had never seen Zoisite quite this open, nor ever quite this free. There was no tension in his shoulders, no flippant remarks or posh, airy gestures. Kunzite wondered then if Zoisite had ever truly been an open book, or if he had actually been more of a furtive novel, cracking open quick, intimate peeks for Kunzite to read. And the softness of trust in his eyes when Kuroi pulled him close- enveloped him, cushioned him, completed him- Kunzite couldn't honestly remember when he had last seen Zosite with the same look in his eyes.

When the music ended and Izou and Kuroi broke free to clap, Kunzite turned away and ordered the strongest whiskey they had.

He was so lost in thought as he sipped, that he had hardly noticed the change in music. Nor did he notice someone sliding onto the seat next to him.

"Thank you for coming."

Kunzite turned his head a fraction of an inch towards the sound of the voice. It was the pianist. This must've been Shirai, Kuroi's roommate.

"It was beautiful," was all Kunzite said, as expected. His own voice, however, sounded a bit hollow even to him.

Shirai ordered a drink and relaxed, hunched, over the edge of the bar. "But you weren't referring to my music," he said with a bit of a faint, wry smile.

This caused Kunzite to automatically stiffen just a bit, not used to someone being able to pick up his behaviour so quickly. "I'm sorry, what?"

Shirai's eyes flickered briefly over the head of waves swaying back and forth on the dance floor. "You've been staring at him all night."

Instead, Kunzie turned to stare at Shirai in perplexion. "I'm sorry," he said again, a little more steadily and clearly. "Have we been introduced?"

The other man shook his head. "My apologies, I shouldn't have been so familiar. Izou mentioned you'd be coming. I'm Shirai...you must be Saitou-san."

Kunzite nodded in confirmation, and relaxed marginally at the context. "I wouldn't think you'd be able to observe your patrons so well while you were performing."

"It's a necessary skill," Shirai explained, as his drink arrived. "To gauge the audience's feedback."

Kunzite grunted dryly and turned away to sip his drink.

"Don't worry. I won't tell Kuroi."

This made Kunzite stop, and raise his head quizzically at the smaller man once more. Shirai's expression was laid-back, as though he hardly cared one way or another, but his face was soft as leather, worn with the familiarity of a friend who knew what he was doing.

"I don't usually involve myself with patrons this personally," he reassured. "But I did sincerely wanted to make sure you enjoyed the music." He took a sip from the glass. Absently his fingers began to quietly press along the wood grain of the bar. Kunzite noticed this and immediately relaxed. Whatever Shirai's intentions, he liked to keep to himself and his music was first and foremost his top concern.

"It was beautiful," Kunzite finally said, now referring to Shirai's playing. "In a different life, I would have been completely captivated. Or considered supporting as a patron."

Kunzite's words brought another quirk to the faint smile that always seemed to be on Shirai's face, as though he was always enjoying an inside joke only he could hear.

"A different life..." Shirai mused, almost to himself. He took another drink. "Interesting, what choices people refer to, when they talk about living another life."

For the first time, Kunzite seriously began observing this man, silently sizing him up. "Are you Buddhist?"

"No. Just philosophical."

Kunzite took a few more moments calculating this man's personality in his head.

"And what choices," he asked, "would you have made in your other life?"

Shirai lost his smile briefly, whatever little there had been of it on his fairly neutral expression.

"Love," was his simple reply. And Kunzite could tell by the distant look in his eyes that whatever matters of love Shirai had regretted acting or not acting upon, it had been a genuine feeling, and it still haunted him to this very day.

Swiftly Kunzite decided he could both trust and liked this man's company, and his shoulders relaxed. His eyes returned to resting on Izou, swaying with a serene smile on his face in Kuroi's arms.

Shirai seemed to notice Kunzite's pain. "You should just tell him. How you feel."

Kunzite shook his head. "I haven't the chance," he said, as the two turned and it was now Kuroi's back facing him, blocking his view of Izou. "He's with someone else now."

Shirai seemed to be contemplating something. "But if he wasn't, would you take that chance?"

This, Kunzite found himself unable to reply. In silence he damned himself for it. Shirai seemed to understand what he was feeling.

"I thought so."

Suddenly Kunzite felt himself sinking in a mire of temporary self loathing. His grip on his drink was so hard, his normally dark knuckles were strained white. He was quickly interrupted, however, as the dance drew to a close, the music softened to an end. Kuroi and Izou broke from their embrace to applaud at the pianist who had performed.

"Your friend, Kuroi," Kunzite suddenly said, a thought striking him. "Is he a patron of yours?"

Shirai glanced over at the two. "Yes. It allows him free access to all the venues I play. It's one of his favourite places to bring people."

As Kuroi and Izou began to make their way over back to the bar, arms wrapped around each other, Kunzite made his decision. "I'll do the same."

The corner of Shirai's lips lifted into a bit of an amused smile. "Thank you for your support," he jibbed, lifting his drink an inch in the air in a feigned toast.

Kunzite ignored the man's sarcasm and clinked their glasses together before downing all his drink in one go. "You do have a gift."

"I know." Shirai took a sip from his as well as the couple neared them. "If only your appreciation would rub off on some."

Kuroi and Izou reached the two and the latter was all aglow.

"Saitou-sama! You made it!"

Seeing Izou so happy to see him brought a smile to Kunzite's face. "Yes, my apologies for my tardiness. Thank you for inviting me."

Izou waved his hand, just delighted Kunzite was here at all. He then turned to Shirai next.

"Shirai-san, your playing was exquisite," he gushed excitedly. "Truly beautiful."

"Yeah, just like the other thousands of times I've heard it," Kuroi teased.

Izou playfully pushed Kuroi a bit in the arm and glanced over at Kunzite. "Saitou-sama, what did you think?" He seemed to have noticed Kunzite was in better spirits.

"It truly was lovely." Kunzite glanced over at Shirai. "In fact, I'd love to hear more of it. I've decided to join as one of Shirai's patrons."

"Really." Kuroi's eyebrows raised. "Funny, I didn't really peg you to be that kind of guy."

Kunzite made a bit of an annoyed grunt in response, but seeing Izou's awed eyes spurred him into voice.

"I appreciate all forms of beauty."

Kuroi nearly snorted in disbelief. "I'm sure you do," he said, but clearly sounding like he knew exactly what kind of _beauty_ Kunihiro was appreciating.

Shirai leaned back against the bar. "Kuroi, you wouldn't know good music even if it slapped you in the face."

"Just because I don't understand it doesn't mean I can't support it," Kuroi retorted in defense. "For a friend, especially."

Izou seemed to ignore these two and their light banter. "Do you play music, Saitou-sama?"

Kunzite was glad for the distraction and was so tempted to just draw Izou into his presence for a more private conversation. "No. But, I have a guitar at home. Sometimes I play some chords on it."

Green eyes lit up as though Kunzite had said magic words. "You play the guitar? I must hear it sometime!"

"I only play as a hobby," Kunzite explained. "But, you're always welcome to come."

Izou looked like he was going to definitely follow up on that. Kunzite was curious, now that they were on the topic of music.

"Do you play, Izou?"

Unexpectedly, Izou's expression fell disappointedly. "No," was his answer, much to Kunzite's surprise. "At least, not that I can remember. I probably played a few silly things back as a child."

In his first lifetime, Kunzite could remember Zoisite having a very strong affinity for the arts; something to do with his sensitivities, Kunzite had thought. He could remember seeing reams and reams of half-finished nude sketches, flowery poetry and Zoisite playing arias to perfection. A condition reared by his half-noble background, Kunzite assumed, as Zoisite did not carry these tendencies over into his second life. Nor, apparently, did it resurface in the third.

"I'm sure if you tried, you'd probably be very good at it," Kunzite suggested, knowing full well that Izou would probably end up excelling far beyond his own expectations.

Izou giggled airily as he brushed Kunzite's compliment aside. "I wouldn't even know where to begin," he laughed.

"I could show you a few chords," Kunzite offered, knowing that the moment he did, Izou would probably be able to pick up the rest of everything faster than he would. "Whenever you're free…"

Before Kunzite could finish, the music had started up again, and Kuroi was quick to suggest a dance to Izou with a nod of his head towards the dance floor. Izou lit up but glanced back at Kunzite, not wanting to leave him behind. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to join us, Saitou-sama?" he asked, and Kunzite could see the concern in his eyes; the same look Zoisite would give him every night whenever he came to bed late.

He smiled at Izou, and it was a genuine one. "It's alright, Izou. I'm afraid I'm not much of a dancer."

It was true. It had already taken a good deal of energy for him to be out in a busy crowd, much less trying to be elegantly coordinated in one. And Kunzite knew if he ever had Zoisite in his arms once more, he would never be able to let him go.

Izou's face fell a little in disappointment, but Kuroi's was one of triumph. "Why don't we go, Izou? The music is starting." He began to pull Izou back onto the floor, but the younger man stopped to glance back at Kunzite apologetically.

Kunzite knew that look and answered it without a beat. "Thank you," he reassured, "I've had a lovely time, and am feeling much better. You go dance."

Izou's face lifted in a smile and he turned back to follow Kuroi eagerly. In a swift second, Izou was once again out of his grasp, and out of his reach once more, but Kunzite hadn't missed that second when they had been tandem.

Shirai finished his drink and the empty glass hit the table with a dull thud. "Good luck," he said simply.

SIlently, Kunzite sighed to himself and returned to resting against the bar. Already he felt drained and just ready for bed; there wouldn't be any more chances to win Izou over tonight. He bade Shirai a grunt of farewell which Shirai silently returned with a nod, and was quick to make himself scarce for the night. He would wait for his next chance.

And when it came, he was sure as hell going to take it.


	6. Music to Follow

The following week, Kunzite arrived at the coffeeshop as usual, only to find it packed with people. The entire establishment was brimming with the vibration of life. The light and noise of people chattering excitedly rumbled his senses as if he was treading upon the back of a great, unpredictable beast. He was still frowning at the scene when Izou arrived by his elbow.

"Oh, I forgot, we're doing a promo thing today." He caught sight of Kunzite's tension and smiled. "Shall we go elsewhere, Saitou-sama?"

Kunzite sensed the opportunity and his spirits lifted tentatively "The closest library is across town, but we won't be able to speak comfortably there. Any ideas?"

Izou thought about it. "Well, there is my place, but I don't really have enough room." His eyes lit up excitedly then. "Where do you live? Perhaps we could go to yours."

Kunzite surged with a rush of success. "That would work. I don't live too far."

"Where, where, where?" Izou asked excitedly.

"Very close to Honan Station."

"By the park?"

"Yes. We could drive there, my car is close by."

Izou's face brightened up even more. "That's perfect! Let me make a call and we'll go right over."

Kunzite couldn't help but smile. "Good. I'll meet you outside."

It didn't take Izou long to make his phone call. As soon as he reappeared onto the street, the two made their way over to Kunzite's plain, silver Subaru.

"You'll have to show me your guitar when we get there," Izou called over the car as he got into the front passenger seat.

"Only if you study well," Kunzite said, sliding in likewise. He gave Izou a bit of a teasing twinkle in his eye and Izou laughed.

"Of course," was the boy's response as he buckled up. "Saitou-sama, you know I'm always very good."

A faint memory of Zoisite diligently working over papers, hand in hair, with his quick, cramped writing, flitted briefly in Kunzite's mind. He pushed the bittersweetness aside to focus on the sense of satisfaction presently swelling in him instead. The car came to life, and shortly the two were on their way.

* * *

The moment Izou stepped in the door, Kunzite could tell he was enchanted. Kunzite's apartment wasn't very large or expensive, but he had taken great care in making sure the necessities were there and well-maintained for Zoisite's return. The apartment was neat and tidy, and what furniture was there was well-made, and even vaguely coordinated. With its blank walls and nearly empty bookcases, the apartment appeared to be deliberately minimalistic and chic to the unassuming eye.

In actuality, Kunzite had simply been conserving his resources for when Zoisite would finally join him. This home had been Kunihiro's for a long time, but it had no life, no spirit. Its only splash of colour was the single guitar in the corner of the living room, kept only because its music still resonated with Kunzite even after his awakening. Once his memories had fully resurfaced, Kunzite understood why the home had been bare as it was...it was waiting for Zoisite, for his love, charm, and personality.

Thusly, it warmed Kunzite's heart to see Izou flitting in between the rooms immediately, an echo of how Zoisite had once gradually explored the cavernous rooms of their Dark Kingdom castle.

"Saitou-sama," Izou exclaimed when he reappeared into the living room. "Your home is so lovely!"

Kunzite allowed another faint smile, but shook his head dismissively. "It's functional."

Izou thumbed daintily over his shoulder. "Although -...there's a sign on the door that says, 'dark room'? Does Saitou-sama do photography?"

It was where Kunzite meditated, virtually a closet that he kept as a basic retreat when he needed to. Dark Kingdom or not, Kunzite still preferred the occasional total backness, and the now-empty space inside served as an excellent respite.

Kunzite shook his head as he readied the kitchen table with the work he had prepared. "No, but the previous tenant did. I thought it was cute, so I kept it."

Izou's face scrunched a little at that, as though he was trying to hide a giggle. "Saitou-sama likes cute things? How unexpected."

"I imagine there's a lot of things about me people would find unexpected."

The expression on Izou's face indicated that he was looking forward to finding out those things. But they wouldn't have time now. Whether it was by intuition or a calling from Zoisite's past, Izou naturally glided into the seat next to Kunzite, ready to tackle their next lesson. It amazed Kunzite sometimes, how easily Izou seemed to fit back into his life. It was as though Zoisite had never left.

* * *

When the lesson was completed, Izou immediately vanished from the kitchen table. As Kunzite tidied up, he noticed Izou bent over the guitar in the corner, admiring its curves and glossy finish.

With the lessons put away, Kunzite made his way over to the sofa. "Bring it here," he suggested.

Izou seemed surprised, but did as instructed. He lifted the instrument with great care, and brought it over to Kunzite's side on the sofa.

Rather than lifting the instrument into is own lap, however, Kunzite carefully placed it back onto Izou's instead. When Izou pulled back in surprise, Kunzite took his left hand and gently placed his fingers onto the board.

"Here," he said. "Give it a try."

Izou's eyes widened even more as he quietly readjusted himself to hold the guitar more comfortably. He turned his gaze up to Kunzite in awe.

"You'd trust me with this, so quickly?"

Kunzite was confused at the comment, but brushed it off. "I know you'll take good care of it."

"Shirai-san won't even let me touch his piano," Izou said, almost in a bit of a whine. "And Kuroi thinks I'll only make noise," he added with a laugh.

"Don't people underestimate your potential," Kunzite said absently as he adjusted Izou's right hand over the strings. "Now press here..." He lightly pointed to each finger he wanted Izou to hold the stings down. "And then run your nail down like this..."

Izou did as instructed and a clean, crisp chord rang through the air. His little mouth dropped in a look of amazement and Kunzite almost smiled with pride. "Now this one…"

This continued on for a little, with Izou slowly learning a few more basic notes and chords. Eventually, Kunzite eased off on his instructions, and allowed Izou to experiment to his heart's content. Apart from the occasional readjustment, Izou hardly needed any more guidance – already his notes rang clearly, his chords hummed sweetly, and soon he was even plucking the strings to a brief, little tune in his head.

"You're very good," Kunzite couldn't help but observe. "Are you sure you haven't played music before?"

There was a slight pause, and Izou's cheeks faintly blushed.

"No," Izou answered, before he returned to picking at the strings absently. "I'm fairly certain I haven't..."

There seemed to be a poignancy to those words, but before Kunzite could pursue it further, Izou quickly turned to him with a big smile.

"You play something!" He presented Kunzite with the guitar.

Kunzite rearraned himself a bit so that he was able to play more comfortably in the crook of the sofa corner. "You're already much better than I am," he said, taking the guitar, "so you've been warned."

By the way Izou had crossed his legs and perched his chin on his hands, Kunzite could tell he hadn't believed a word of it. Kunzite remembered that face. It was the same face that he often caught from Zoisite when he thought Kunzite wasn't looking: from his desk, from his bed, by the fireplace. But Kunzite had seen them; he had always seen them.

It took Kunzite a couple of tries, but eventually he got the first chord right. The rhythm started slow, simple, with slight pauses in between as Kunzite tried to tap in to the sound that was older than own memory. Eventually he began to hum, a deep, modest rumble that made Izou's eyes widen in surprise and his mouth part in awe.

Unexpected, indeed...

After some time, some of the lyrics eventually returned to him. Even in the Golden Kingdom, this had been considered an ancient song. The words tumbled like old rocks, some smooth like river stones, while others scratched with the grit of cracked mountain ridges. Kunzite could only sing the ones he remembered, stitched together by hums in-between. Even then, they sounded more like notes and vocalizations than anything – but he knew them to be words, even if he had forgotten their meaning as well.

Even if Izou could not recall where it had been sung from, in a few glances Kunzite could tell they unlocked something in him a bit. Leaf-green eyes were utterly captivated as the boy sat entirely still, gripped by Kunzite's deep voice and the accompanying melody, only to be released by the song's end, fading like smokes of opium into the air.

When Kunzite's voice finally trailed off and he set the guitar back down, Izou's finally came back to life.

"That was incredible, Saitou-sama," he breathed. "Where is it from?"

"From my childhood," Kunzite replied, and it wasn't entirely a lie.

Izou's eyes were still twinkling in wonderment. "Was Saitou-sama born in Japan?"

Kunzite shook his head. According to the memories of his third life, he had parents once, possibly even siblings. But they were gone from an early age, with no-one to replace them. He had been a nomad, in a way, in all of his lives.

He felt Izou edge closer, and Kunzite wished then he could just wrap his arms around the beautiful man. Zoisite had always been his home.

At that very second, the clock struck the hour, and its quiet chime startled both of them out of one another's spell. As the moment dissipated, and both men looked away with some unrealized embarrassment. Both their cheeks were somewhat rosy, and Kunzite cleared his throat out of habit to disguise the awkwardness.

"Forgive me, Saitou-sama," Izou finally said softly, when his temperature had returned to normal. "I'm afraid I ought be going now..."

Kunzite glanced at the clock. It was six, earlier than when they typically finished their lessons.

"Of course." He wouldn't force Izou to stay, as much as he would have liked to share more time with him. "You have prior arrangements?"

Izou nodded, his cheeks having returned to his usual colour. "I promised Kuroi I'd meet him after work. He should be done now."

Kunzite nodded again, trying to ignore the stiffness that gripped his chest whenever Izou spoke that name. "Where are you meeting him? I could drive you."

"Oh, just at the park," Izou chirped. "He was working there today."

It was hard to meet Izou's eyes, but Kunzite wasn't quite ready to say goodbye. "Let me walk you there."

Thankfully, Izou beamed at this suggestion. "Sure!"

* * *

The stroll was fairly short, but in the softening colors of the sunset, it was sweet and warm. If Kunzite didn't think of where they were going, he could almost pretend that they were together again. Almost.

"I really enjoyed today," Izou said sincerely, as they passed through the stone walls of the park. The tall trees lined before them like a deep forest, secluded and cozy in the shade they provided. It almost reminded Kunzite of their jungle backyard, back in the Dark Kingdom. "Thank you so much for showing me your guitar."

The park was so quiet. Only the sound of their feet rolling on stone steps could be heard. Kunzite glanced at Izou, walking so elegantly - shoulders poised, limbs delicately tucked in. One arm was folded over his stomach, while the other hand hovered over his heart. How was he so naturally this beautiful?

"Anytime," Kunzite replied just as sincerely. "If that is something you enjoy and would like to pursue, I'd be happy to let you borrow it whenever you wish."

Izou glowed in response. How wonderful was it, to have a friend who supported his interests so genuinely.

As the trees thickened, Kunzite couldn't help but feel something was amiss. It had been a gradual sensation, but as they walked deeper and deeper into the park, it began to grow stronger and stronger. A sense of familiarity, as if he had seen this park this before. But as far he could tell, he never stepped foot on its grass once.

Up ahead, they caught sight of Kuroi coming on the other side of the path. He was dressed in all white, but most of it was roughed with dirt. He had started to wave, but upon catching sight of Kunzite, his hand stopped, and his smile disappeared.

Kunzite, however, was too distracted by this sensation of deja vu that he kept looking around him. The sun had sunk now, and the park was growing bluer and bluer. He could've sworn he had seen this place once…

Suddenly he heard Izou gasp sharply, ad his head snapped over. Izou was tight, his body clenching as he took a each step.

"Izou? What's the matter?"

Izou winced. "Nothing, just...suddenly I'm a bit...nau-.."

But before Izou could even finish his sentence, he stumbled to his knees. Kunzite darted to catch him, but as soon as did, he was struck with a sudden spark of recognition.

In the distance, Kuroi caught sight of this and launched into a run.

"Izou!"

As Kunzite continued to hold onto Izou's arms, he turned to survey their surroundings. Tall, dark trees. Soft, blue-green grass. Three youma , he remembered Zoisite showing him. Three youma in a park, one that threw seeds that exploded, another that threw shockwaves, and the third -

Izou had slid from his arms, and was on his knees now completely. He was doubled over, clutching his head in front of a thick oak tree.

"What ...why...?"

Kunzite's eyes came to rest on the thick oak tree, and the grass before it. He remembered how it had been stained with blood. Shining, murky green blood and that glimmered so viscerally, even in the projection Zoisite had showed him.

Nephrite's blood.

Kunzite took a step back, realizing what he need to do, too late. Coming to his senses, he went to pick Izou up, but Kuroi had now arrived by his side.

"Izou!"

"We have to get him out of here," was all Kunzite could think to say. This whole park was a trigger point, and Izou was starting to hyperventilate.

"Well obviously," Kuroi retorted, as he held both Izou's shoulders firmly. "Izou-chan, hang in there. I've got you."

Before Kunzite could protest, Kuroi had gathered Izou up and hoisted him over his back. As Izou clung to him, whimpering and groaning, Kuroi looked to Kunzite like he was insane.

"Aren't you an officer? Go call for help!"

Kunzite snapped back to his senses and turned immediately.

"You head for the entrance," he told Kuroi, "I'll have the car here by that time."

He was about to bolt off when he heard Izou whimper again, this time, something familiar.

"Kun...zite-...sama…"

Hearing his name, Kunzite froze. But Kuroi hadn't caught what Izou had rasped out, and still had enough sense to keep them both on task.

"Saitou! Get the car!"

Realizing the more important matter at hand, Kunzite shook his head clear, and both men hastened for the entrance.


	7. Dreams that Rise

_"What is this...feeling?"_

Nausea. Inexplicable, terrible nausea. From the moment his vision blurred and his stomach lurched from discomfort to sick, Izou knew something was wrong.

He just hadn't known _what_ …

It was now Saturday. In his old room at the rehabilitation clinic, Izou was sitting in bed, recovering. He had a sketchbook in his lap and a few bouquets of well-wishes on his table.

Over the past few days, the nausea and its subsequent disorientation had slowly begun to dissipate. However, the nightmares persisted: vivid flashes of grotesque faces, monsters with muscles that were warped like tree roots, and stone columns that reached to a black sky that was smothering as it was endless. A soft coursing of petals that always felt real to his cheek, and filling his blood with a strange sense of tranquility. A garden basking in sunrise; being held by someone warm.

And then he would always bolt awake.

In the quiet solitude of the room, Izou had always felt safe. Even though the anachronism would send his heart ramming or his stomach lurching, the simple tactility of his surroundings would always ground him back to reality. He could understand the things in this world, even if it took some time to remember them. The softness of the cream blankets, the coolness of the metal rails, the brightness of the flora on his bedside table. These were all touchable things, things he _knew_. Things that grounded his existence, confirmed he was alive.

Even if flowers occasionally filled him with a strange sense of melancholy...

A knock came at the door, and Izou paused from his sketching. When he saw his guest, he perked up into a big smile.

"Saitou-sama!"

The older man was standing in the doorway, in his casual clothes and long, heavy coat. Outside of his usual uniform, he seemed somewhat awkward and stiff, as if he wasn't sure what to do.

"Pardon my intrusion."

Izou quickly waved it off. "No intrusion at all! Please, come in." He pushed the book aside, and scooted over to make room for Kunihiro to sit on the bed.

Despite his enthusiasm, it took some time for Kunihiro to pass through the room. He seemed to be taking great care in his steps, not wanting to upset whatever delicacy he felt hung in the air. As he approached the bed, his eyes drifted over to the flowers on Izou's bedside table in succession: several bundles of classic red roses, a warm burst of peonies and other garden blossoms, clusters and clusters of daisies in every color and size. Finally, closest to him, a clear vase containing a single white rose.

Izou couldn't help but be amused at the slightly disconcerted frown on Kunihiro's brow. "Is everything alright, Saitou-sama? Are you allergic?"

"No," Kunihiro said automatically, his eyes lingering on the blush-pink peonies. "My apologies, I'm afraid I haven't brought anything to add to your...collection."

"Oh, please, don't worry at all!" Izou immediately waved his hands. "Any more of them and I wouldn't be able to bring them all home. "

Kunihiro nodded, and finally pulled his eyes away. He cleared his throat and opened his jacket to pull forth a manila envelope.

"I came to give you these," he started, but there was a note of hesitation in his voice. "A collection of summative assignments. I wasn't sure if you were up to it, but I also didn't want your hard work to go to waste…"

Unable to help himself, Izou felt his heart melt. It was so thoughtful for Kunihiro to go through all this trouble for him. Even if it hadn't been the man's intention, these assignments would bring Izou the sense of normalcy that he craved. He raised his hand to take the packet.

"Thank you," he said genuinely. "I could use the distraction."

"How long do you still need to remain here?"

"Perhaps another week, thereabouts. They want to observe me a little longer yet."

Kunihiro nodded. On one hand, he seemed to want to stay. His discerning gaze was trained on Izou, worried. But on another, he also seemed concerned about overstaying his visit.

"Perhaps I should let you rest, then," he finally said. "I don't want to be a both-"

"Oh, you wouldn't be a bother at all!" Izou exclaimed. He scooted over further, to give Kunihiro some space on the bed. "Please, stay. Just for a little while."

It was hard for Kunzite to refuse Zoisite when he begged like that. So awkwardly, Kunzite remained. Not wanting to intrude on Izou's space, however, he first thought to sit down in the guest chair - but then realized it was already occupied with a wreath of sunflowers and a teddy-bear.

"I'm sorry, the girls at the coffee shop maybe went a little overboard," Izou giggled behind him. "Please, Saitou-sama, sit. I really don't mind."

Sighing, Kunzite turned away from the chair, and carefully sat himself on the edge of the bed. He tried to keep himself contained in his space, not wanting to accidentally trigger another memory too suddenly. But, the echo of Zoisite's voice still drifted in the back of his mind.

" _Kun-...zite-...sama…"_

"Saitou-sama?" Izou's voice broke him out of his daze. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Kunzite blinked. "Yes, yes," he said automatically. "Sorry, I was... distracted by the flowers."

"Do you not like them?" Izou asked, as he pulled the assignments from out of the packet.

"No, it's not that," Kunzite said honestly. "It's just… a bit hard on my eyes. It's a lot of colors."

Izou peeked up briefly, an amused smile on his face. "What would you do differently?" he asked innocently. As he waited for Kunihiro to answer, he flipped through the sheets of the assignment, relieved to find all the equations familiar. So he hadn't lost any memories this time, as far as he could tell.

"...Separate them," Kunihiro finally answered. "When they are all clustered, they compete and clash with one another in the same space. It becomes hard to appreciate their singular, individual beauty."

This reply surprised Izou, and he raised his head. He hadn't expected Kunihiro's response to turn so… serious.

"I think there's times when they look good together," Izou countered. "Like in a garden. Then they become concentrated bundle of beauty. A cluster of joy, like the sun."

"Yes," Kunihiro agreed. "I suppose I prefer to view them as stars in the night. That way you can see each bud's personality, admire its individual imperfections. Appreciate its unique charm." His voice dropped a bit then, and his eyes grew distant, as though he was just realizing something.

"Yes?" Izou prodded, transfixed.

Kunihiro still looked like he was in his own little world. _And give it your utmost adoration_ , Kunzite had been about to say. _Give it the love it deserves…_

"Like that one there," Kunzite quickly said, breaking away from his train of thought. He gestured to the single white rose in the vase next to Izou. "There's simplicity in its elegance. And I couldn't help but notice it's the one closest to you. It must be special to you."

Izou glanced over to the flower in question. "Oh! Yes." His smile grew soft. "This one was from Kuroi. It's his favourite flower."

Once more, Kunzite felt his gut shrivel up and die a little inside him. At every angle of Izou's life, this man was wedged between them. This man who shared some similarities to Kunzite, but who was ultimately not. He wouldn't treat Zoisite the same, give him what he really needed, or truly understand him. The flower wasn't even _Zoisite's_ favourite - it wasn't even pink!

Carefully, Izou pulled the flower out from the vase, and brought it close to his lips. Its scent was calming - clean and fresh like a spring morning. It smoothed his anxieties, sanitized him from his dreams.

"Kuroi-chan used to be a patient here, you know," Izou started quietly. "He woke up one day in a room like this, without memories, with no recognition of friends or family. But the one thing he knew for sure - the one thing he knew _before he remembered his own name_ \- ...was that this was his favourite flower. White roses."

There was a moment of silence then, as the new information seemed to sink into Kunihiro. Izou continued to hold the stem carefully, twirling it slowly to admire its open petals from all angles.

"I'm surprised," Kunihiro finally confessed, with some care in his voice. "I would have thought red to be his favourite color."

"It would seem that way, wouldn't it?" Izou agreed. "But it's actually white. White flowers, greenery, the sea. Those were his favourite things, the earliest things he could remember with total certainty." He slowly returned the flower back to the vase.

Kunzite watched Izou closely, considering if now was a good idea to ask what he was thinking of.

"When you woke up, what could you remember?" he finally asked softly. "Was there anything deep inside you that you knew, for sure?"

Izou paused, and his face fell. His hands dropped as well, back down to his lap, and Kunzite couldn't help but notice they had started to play a little with each other, a little anxiously.

"I don't know," Izou mumbled. "When I woke up, apparently all I was speaking was gibberish."

"Do you remember what kind of gibberish?" Kunzite pressed.

Izou shook his head. "Nothing anyone could understand. Some names, maybe, but I don't remember them now."

"Any persons? Reoccuring dreams that felt right?" Kunzite pushed some more.

Izou shook his head again, now feeling a rise of anxiety in his chest. "No," his voice cracked a little.

"Familiar colours, scents, places?" Kunzite was desperate. He knew that it was in Izou, it was accessible, Zoisite was there - but for some reason Izou was sealing everything in, hard. "Flowers?"

"Only that I like them!" Izou suddenly cried. Tears rushed to his eyes and heat flooded his cheeks. "Only that I love them," he repeated, heart thudding loudly in his chest. He brought his hands to his face, hiding his eyes and cradling his forehead. "I- …"

Realizing he had overstepped his bounds, Kunzite's urgency burnt to ashes, and dropped like coal into the pit of his gut. On one hand he wanted to reach forward to comfort Izou, but on the other, he realized that this was his doing. If he wasn't careful, he could send Izou to another breakdown.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. He glanced around and offered the tissue box on Izou's bedside table. "Forgive me, I - … didn't mean to upset you."

Izou was swallowing his tears now. But he accepted the tissues, and Kunihiro's apology.

"It's okay," Izou managed to say, dabbing his eyes. "I'm sorry, Saitou-sama. I'm just...not ready to talk about these things right now."

Kunzite felt even more ashamed now. "Please don't apologize. It was my wrongdoing. I'm sorry." He let Izou have some time to breathe. "If you prefer, I can go…"

"No, it's okay," Izou insisted. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Kunihiro off. His tears had mostly stopped now, and his heart rate had resumed to a more acceptable pace. "I'm afraid I haven't progressed as far as Kuroi-chan has. I have figured out some friends and family, but…" He shivered a little. "But I still get nightmares that don't make sense."

Kunzite continued to hold the tissue box. "What sort of dreams, if you don't mind me asking?" he ventured carefully.

Izou took a deep breath. "Just...really scary stuff. Monsters. Scary faces. Shadows, terrifying-looking trees. The feeling of being smothered underground, buried alive. A crystal castle, and it suddenly grows these thick green veins, and a heartbeat."

Kunzite reconsidered how far he should push. These were clear examples of Izou remembering his past life in slumber. Nightmares to him, but dreams to Zoisite.

Izou couldn't read Kunihiro's emotionless stare, but he feared the worse.

"Kuroi used to have bad dreams too," Izou was quick to explain, desperate to show Kunihiro that he wasn't crazy, that in time he could be normal too. "He had nightmares of him fighting people. Like the sounds of metal clashing, flashes of a gold and red in a uniform. Winning over someone. Possibly _hurting them._ Stabbing them, sometimes over and over!"

Kunzite sat up straight. "Izou, are you safe with him?" He immediately asked. "Has he hurt you?"

"No, that's not it at all!" Izou exclaimed. "Don't you see? Kuroi figured it out, in the end. The fighting he was dreaming about was his past sword matches. The red and gold he saw? Those were his competition colors. His dreams of hurting people? They were anxieties that stemmed from not understanding what his dreams of fighting were referring to." Izou looked off to the side. "For the longest time, he didn't want to find out who he was. He feared he was someone horrible. But then it turns out - ...he was fine."

Kunzite took a moment for all this to sink in. Izou glanced back at him hesitantly, waiting for his response, almost anxiously. His fingers drifted up to twist the ends of his ponytail. He pulled so tightly that they frayed out of their curl, like storm-blown hay.

Finally Kunzite spoke, and when he did, his voice was solemn.

"You've dreamt about something similar, haven't you?" Kunihiro asked softly. "That you've hurt someone."

Izou's eyes flew wide open and his heart stopped. How had Kunihiro known? Izou felt his soul wither and he buried his face in shame. He couldn't tell Kunihiro the worst of it. The worst of the feeling that had surged him in the park.

 _The feeling of triumph…_

"I can't shake the feeling I've done something terrible," Izou whispered. Something terrible, but something also _so_ _very good._ He deserved it, whoever he had been. The rush of peace, tranquility, confidence at the aftermath. The twisted sense of pride made Izou sick to his stomach.

Very gently, he felt Kunihiro lay a hand on his knee.

"Will it make you feel better," Kunihiro said softly, "if I told you that I know of no criminal record or juvenile offenses committed by a Kozakura Izou?"

At this, Izou's head lifted up. His wide eyes tracked across Kunihiro's face for any kind of lie or deceit, but found none. Kunihiro's face remained as soft and passive as the day he first heard Izou's story.

"You- you're sure?" Izou whispered, desperate to believe it. "Really?"

Kunihiro nodded. "Really," he confirmed quietly. "If any such thing had happened, I would have known."

Izou's eyes lit up, and his heart flooded with relief. The dreams must've been something else. He sank back, hand over his mouth as he tried not to cry.

"You are young," Kunihiro continued. "And have a bright and sensitive soul. It's very possible your dreams are your imagination's way of abstracting your past. But that doesn't mean you've done the things you fear."

Izou's eyes scanned over Kunihiro again, and slowly his hand dropped, revealing a tentative little smile.

"You really think so?"

Kunihiro nodded. "And if your friends are any indication…" He gestured to the flowers and gifts all around the room. "Who you fear you were is not who you are now. Nor, who you choose to be." Kunihiro's eyes were so beautifully kind, even if his expression hardly ever changed. "Your choices in the present are what truly defines you."

Izou let his hand slowly fall to his lap, unable to express to Kunihiro just how much he appreciated all this.

"Thank you, Kunihiro-sama," Izou whispered. He slowly glanced over at the white flower in the vase next to him. "Kuroi-chan says the same thing…"

There was a heavy sigh from Kunihiro, and the weight on Izou's knee pulled away and disappeared.

"He is right," Kunihiro admitted. "You are lucky to have him."

Izou turned back to Kunihiro, and reached forward to lay a hand on his arm.

"I'm lucky to have you too."

There was that moment again: when the world grew quiet and everything around Kunzite seemed to pause. Izou's hand felt so warm and lovely on his arm, even through the thickness of his coat. And the way those bright green eyes were gazing at him so clearly…

"Ahem."

Both were startled out of the moment and looked towards the door. Izou pulled his hand away.

"Kuroi-chan!"

The dark-haired man stood in the doorway, this time with his white-haired friend, as well as the receptionist. Kuroi had another bouquet of red roses collected in one arm, while Shirai was bearing a more eclectic collection of sunflowers, carnations and random greenery. The receptionist was peering into the room, and upon seeing Kunihiro, frowned quizzically.

"Are we interrupting anything?" Kuroi asked from the door.

Before Izou could respond, Kunihiro rose to his feet.

"No, I was about to leave," Kunihiro said, before Izou could protest. There was a certain note of finality in there than quelled any chance of Izou convincing him otherwise.

Kuroi nodded as Kunihiro gathered himself. He turned back to Izou just to say:

"No need to rush the assignments. Whenever you're ready, you can pass it back to me by leaving it at the coffeehouse. Goodbye."

The abruptness took Izou off-gaurd, but Kunihiro was already heading out the door before he could even say anything.

As Kuroi stepped aside to make space for Kunzite to pass, the receptionist's brow furrowed some more. Then, a light of recognition sparked in her eyes.

"Ah, you must be -"

"No," Kunzite cut her off curtly. "I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else. Good day."

And before anyone else could say anything, Saitou Kunihiro had disappeared down the hall.


End file.
